Chapter 21— Interlude: Slytherin Potter

~Fun Fact: Did you know that Yan's father is Greek whilst his mother is Egyptian.

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Harry was unequivocally exhausted and was currently inside the Slytherin dormitories. Unlike what Yan had told him about the Hufflepuff dormitories; the Slytherin dormitories allowed students to have their own rooms separate from the other students in their cohort. Although not unpleasant, it did require some getting used to. After years of having a roommate in the form of Yan, he was suddenly given a room of his own. But once he got over the discomfort he found that he quite liked the solitude.

It had only been a few days since the start of his first year yet it felt as if weeks had passed. Harry knew that his time in Slytherin would be difficult, he was even warned, but this was too much. The constant verbal exchanges in the common meant that a place of rest and protection from outside prejudices had turned into yet another battleground. Amongst the first years, everyone was vying for supremacy in order to put themselves atop the Slytherin hierarchy and his status as the Boy-Who-Lived made it so that he was the prime target for verbal spars. He was thankful for the book on Pureblood etiquette Uncle Adam had bought for him since it was the only thing saving him from social suicide.

Slytherin Politics aside, his time at Hogwarts was off to a good start. Though if there was one thing he disliked, it was Professor Snape's baseless hatred towards him. He would know if it was just a general dislike for students; but the expression on Snape's face when looking at him was one he was used to seeing when he lived with the Dursleys. It was a look that expressed a loathing of his very being—a pure and unfettered malice— and he had no idea what he did to cause Snape to hate him that much. This unfortunately resulted in his Potions lessons becoming an hour of avoiding doing anything that would draw the ire of the Potions Master, quickly draining the fun out of his favourite subject.

He shook his head ruefully as he sat on his bed, cross legged. Slowly breathing in through his nose, Harry began meditating in order to find his memories. Inhaling and exhaling rhythmically, he felt himself slowly drifting away into nothingness. He didn't think that he'd ever be able to get used to the sensation. After what he presumed to be a few moments of floating around, Harry found himself in a pitch black expanse that was only illuminated by countless bobbing neon-white spheres. The spheres were connected to one another by misty threads that extended from one sphere to another. That didn't mean that all the spheres were connected though; some spheres were part of a complex network of threads whereas others seemed to only have a connection to one sphere and some even drifted around alone. Turning to one that bobbed too close to his head, Harry peered inside it and looked at the scene playing out within. It was a family dinner with Yan and his family, causing him a smile to blossom across his face. Harry was truly grateful to the Baraks; they fed him, clothed him, and took him in as if he were their own son— and in some sense, Harry liked to think that he was.

Exiting the memory, Harry floated around the space in search of a specific memory that had occurred today. Closing his eyes, he willed his memory of the day forward. He opened his eyes, feeling as if he was being approached by something at a high speed. In the distance, a translucent sphere darted towards him, growing bigger and bigger before eventually slowing down in front of his nose. Harry focused in on the memory until he was enveloped into it,

*****

[September 2nd, 1991]

Harry's eyes snapped open as he bolted out of his bed, excited. How could he not be? He was inside a magical castle with endless opportunities for adventure. He got out of his bed and began doing bodyweight exercises to wake up. Once he was done, he went to the bathroom to go shower and brush his teeth.

After finishing, he made his way to the common room; being careful not to wake anyone up. He lowered his excitement slightly using Occlumency as he knew feeling too much excitement was not going to be good for him and would impair his ability to think calmly.

The common room was a dungeon-like room with greenish lamps and chairs. It extended part way under the lake, giving the light in the room a green tinge. The common room had lots of low backed black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas, skulls, and dark wood cupboards. One of the wooden tables had a Wizard's Chess set on it. The walls were decorated with tapestries featuring the adventures of famous Medieval Slytherins including Merlin himself.

Sitting on one of the sofas was a boy with slicked back, platinum-blond hair. His back was turned so Harry was not sure who he was, though he realised that if he was going to spend seven years with someone, he may as well know their name. He strode confidently towards the boy, walking around the sofa so he could get a look at his face. He was reading a book and had greyish-blue eyes, a pale complexion, and a pointed face. Noticing Harry's presence the boy looked up, studying him for a few seconds before he spoke.

"Greetings Heir Potter, I am Heir Malfoy of House Malfoy." He said, offering his hand.

Harry shook it, and replied in the customary way stated in the etiquette book. "Good morning Heir Malfoy, feel free to call me Harry if you'd like."

"Well then you may also call me Draco, Harry." Draco replied.

Harry sighed in relief; grateful that Draco chose not to insist on customary greetings and social rituals.

"So Draco, any subjects you're looking forward to?" Asked Harry.

"I'm partial to Potions, however Transfiguration is also equally interesting." Replied the platinum-blonde, neutrally.

This is what Harry disliked about the Slytherin house. Any and all conversation— unless in the presence of friends— was like a fencing match. Each person traded sentences, searching for the other's weaknesses. You could never be sure who was being genuine. The house really was a snake pit. Treachery and deceit lied in every corner; however it was also the perfect place to get stronger. And perhaps he could make a new friend.

"I also enjoy Potions. If you'd like, maybe we could review the first year material some time." Harry said, extending the boy an olive branch.

"I'd like that." Replied the boy, a genuine smile crossing his face as he grasped the metaphorical olive branch.

"Alright then, I'm going to explore the castle for a while. See you later." Said Harry, nodding at Draco.

Draco didn't reply but instead nodded in acknowledgement, his attention returning to the book in his hands. Harry didn't know what to make of Draco. He seemed intelligent and shrewd. Almost as if he was analysing each and every one of Harry's actions. Nothing he did—except the smile he gave Harry— felt genuine. He cleared his head of such thoughts as he exited the common room in search of mystery and adventure.

*****

His consciousness returning to his mind, a pensive expression formed on Harry's face. After meticulous review, he found that all of Malfoy's actions were calculated very carefully. Yet his smile was genuine. He felt perplexed at the current situation. Eventually, his want for a friend overcame his apprehension as he floated towards a sphere that was next to the one he had just looked at, Harry steeled himself as his consciousness dived inside the sphere.

*****

[September 2nd, 1991]

Potions took place in the dungeons, away from the main castle. As a result, it was colder than usual and Harry could see his breath as it condensed before his face. Walking into the classroom, Harry could hardly contain his excitement. The room contained everything a Potioneer could hope for. State of the art glass vials and beakers, brass cauldrons and an ingredients cupboard. Although personally, Harry thought the room could use a bit more light and ventilation.

The lesson started off as usual lessons do. Snape started by taking the roll call and paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, a hint of condescension in his voice. "Harry Potter. Our new. . . celebrity."

His comment was met by silence as Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were pitch black and seemed to suck in everything that dared to look into them. They were cold and empty, devoid of any and all emotion. That was until they gazed upon Harry; that was when they gained a cold malice.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making." He began, speaking in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word — like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort— Harry got the impression that this was not Snape's first time giving this speech. More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Blaise, who were seated together, exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. "However, for those select few; who possess the predisposition I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death. Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not pay attention! Mister Potter; our new celebrity…"

"Potter!" Snapped Snape suddenly, causing Harry to flinch. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"The Draught of Living Death, sir." Harry replied respectfully.

A brief look of imperceptible surprise flashed across Snape's face before disappearing.

"Once more then. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"The stomach of a goat, sir." Harry replied matter-of-factly, making sure that he watched his tone.

"That's a point for your cheek, Potter." Snape said, relishing at the look of shock on Harry's face. "Now tell me, what is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Harry felt a burning anger in his stomach. The man clearly enjoyed tormenting him for reasons he had no knowledge of. Using Occlumency to calm himself down, he looked up at the Professor; Harry's emerald-green eyes meeting Snape's obsidian spheres.

"There is none sir." said Harry quietly, daring the man to say otherwise.

A moment of silence filled the room as Snape stared at Harry before looking at the class.

"It seems that you aren't as much of a dunderhead as I thought you were. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" He snapped at the class, whirling around as his cloak billowed at his feet.

*****

Harry left his mind and opened his eyes, once again finding himself in his dormitory room. He shook his head, perplexed at the memory he had just witnessed. Crawling under the covers, he felt his consciousness slowly drift away until he could see and hear no more.

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